Tuesday, March 29, 2005

InductionSo it begins. Elijah's arrival shall be much heralded. The process starts tonight, though he's not expected to make his much anticipated appearance until sometime wednesday evening. As you can well imagine... between selling puppies, tiling a kitchen floor, and preparing for this whole birthin' deal, ol' Nate has been well occupied.

We at the BloggerBlaster would like to apologize for the inconvenience. Welldigger, JAC, Vox, and Will are hereby and forthwith expected to pick up the slack.

Bad Joke Wednesday.... for a second straight week... shall appartently be pre-empted.

Monday, March 28, 2005

I've Been Saying This For Weeks"In fact, under traditional law, there is more of a case for killing Terry Schiavo’s husband in order to save her from him than there is for killing the brain-damaged woman in the first place."- Orson Scott Card

You can read his editorial on the matter here. Thanks to JAC for pointin' this out.

The fact is, I simply have no respect for the woman's family. Their willingness to allow her to be killed in the name of "The Law" has simply robbed me of any reason to think of them as anything but cowards.

They are willing to protect their daughter... so long as they don't have to get their hands dirty.

Oh don't you worry friends... I'll not deprive you of the knowledge of wence my wrath comes. Ya see.. My parents arrived yesterday to help with birthin', which by the way should commence in the next couple days.

It being Easter Sunday they brought with them many gifts and prizes.... including a suspicious looking basket... that was suspicously covered with newspapers... suspicously hiding its contents...

I was suspicious.

After Jeb had gotten many toys and treats I was summoned to the living room.... where I found the suspicous looking basket... still covered... prominently displayed upon our coffee table.

Aparently it was my easter basket.

Now... I know my family. I've known 'em my whole life... So... my instinct was to carry the basket out to the porch and set fire to it. Looking back... I should have...

Against my better judgement I opened the thing... and of course... what do I see?

Peeps! And not just Peeps... No no... Peep Paraphenalia!

There were Peep Pencils.... Peep Pens... Stuffed Peeps... Peep Note pads... a string of Peep lights... there was even a Peep Musical CD!

And in amongst all the hate... I find a box of the most evil... vile... unspeakable...

Friday, March 25, 2005

IronyAll those years ago... when Terri's heart stopped beating... it was the result of a dietary problem, involving to much potassium, that caused her heart to stop. Her brain was deprived of oxygen for 15 minutes or so... and that's what did all the damage.

Right now... Terri is dehydrating. As the fluid in her body is used up... there is massive kidney damage... and the electrolyte levels rise.

As they rise... the level of potassium in her system sky rockets.

When the level of potassium reaches a certain point... her heart will stop, and her brain will be deprived of oxygen.

The very same physiological process that started Terri's ordeal, is now ending it.

And I suppose this is a good time to point out that we use the same process... a leathal injection of potassium, to execute those sentenced to death.

Pullin' the PlugI suspect I'm about to post some rather unpopular advice. However... it is something that needs said.

When the time comes to make the call... you're better off making it sooner, than later.

The body can, and often does, function just fine without the conscience mind. The body, given time, heals. This is a bad combination.

In ICU's all over the country, doctors are talking to families, explaining options, and those families are trying to listen, and waging an emotional battle with themselves. What happens all to often... is a situation where the family waits around to long to make the call... and eventually there is no call left to make. The body has rebuilt itself inside, but the mind is gone.

"Withdrawing support" at that point means dehydration.

I'm not talking about Terri here. Fact is, the only reason we've heard about Terri is the bizarre circumstances and the court fight. While you lament Terri's coming death, perhaps you could take a moment to consider the thousands dying in exactly the same way. No vigils for them.

Medicine is at an awkward stage. In the case of catastrophic failure, often they are good enough to keep you alive when you shouldn't be... but they aren't good enough to guarantee you any kind of decent life.

We recoil at the thought of Doctors deciding when its time to withdraw support (even though they do it in the OR's all the time), but families have demonstrated themselves all to often, unwilling to make that call. What we see from many parents is just the emotional need to feel like they did everything they could. They want the patient to die, they just don't want to be the ones to do it, and they need to feel like they tried hard to stop it, to satisfy any future guilt. This is expected... of athiests.

Most disturbing to me is the Christian fear of death.

And that.. is why this whole thing falls back in the lap of the Church.

See... Families are dropping the ball, but we cannot invest in doctors or God forbid, judges, the power to say who lives and who dies. Thus, if it is going to be addressed, it is the families with whom we must address it.

Only the Church is capable of such a thing.

As a Church we fear death. We lament death. We treat death as if it was an end, and we have to change that.

I do not fear death, nor do I relate to those Christians who do. Oh... I understand why a Buddist would... I understand why an Atheist would... But not a Christian. We will go when we go, and that will not be a bad thing.

Fight for the life of your loved ones. But if its time.. its time. Let them go in peace with some shred of dignity. You're not foresaking your Faith by allowing them to die people.

Let them go while their blood and oxygen are being supplied artificially. Let them go while there is no doubt of their conscienceness.

And what of Living Wills? Bah... the documents are practicly more trouble than their worth. Fact is... they are medical treatments, and the decisions about them are being made by people with no medical knowledge.

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

The Next Upset?Utah vs UK is a popular pick for the big upset. "Experts" seem to think that Utah's big man will have his way with UK's interior. "Experts" also had Syracuse or Wake Forest in the Final Four. Ignore them. UK is the deepest team in the tournament. They'll run three centers at Bogat... 2 that are over 7', and one that's just a 6'10 freshman phenom.

UK has to many fouls to give. Bogut is a great passer, and a great competitor, but one man can't beat 5, and he certainly can't beat the 12 that UK is gonna be using. UK's freshman point guard Rajon Rondo will dominate this game on the defensive end. I'm predicting 3 steals, 15 points, and 6 assists.

When it's all said and done... Utah will be a spot on the road.

And then... well... then the "Experts" will start talking about Duke, and how UK can't possibly beat them. You know... it's funny... Ever notice that no one on ESPN, or over at SI can ever see the obvious matchup problems Duke faces... unless they are talking about another ACC opponent causing them?

Fact is... Duke doesn't have an answer for Rondo any more than Utah did. Their guards got embarrassed by Mississippi State for cryin' out loud.

See... if you can't handle those guys... How are you gonna stand up to the kid that just set the all time single season record for steals at UK?

Cops SuckIt's things like this that should tell you everything you need to know. Never dial 911. It never helps.

Now think about this... You call 911 to report a guy on a motorcycle, who's been in an accident, and is badly hurt. You call 911, they answer, and transfer you to a police sergeant, who hears you describe the scene... and then he says... "Yeah... that's to bad." ***CLICK***

You call back... 911 again transfers you... and the same sergeant answers again... and again, he blows you off and hangs up on you.

And my personal favorite... what does the cop get as punishment? 15 suspension. Wow. A mere citizen would be charged with God knows what.

Remember... They are not resposible for helping you. They do not have to. They cannot be held responsible for not responding.

Friday, March 18, 2005

ATF!Hey quit yer bitchin'! Better late than never. ok so what's on the table this evenin'? Lastweek I threw out like 600 topics that you bastards all ignored. So all those are fair game.

As for tunes... its sort of a quiet night.... cool.... not violently cold... I'm thinking Shostakovic. Hey... Fire of Eternal Glory is never a bad call. I may wonder off to the Classical Masterpieces channel and leave her lay for while. The little lady is tired as she can be... and that means I can pretty well lose myself in the analysis of the pieces... and the insane musicianship that's almost always involved. Has anyone ever noticed that Symphony Number 9... no matter who's symphany it is that you're talking about... is always awesome? Is there some arcane rule among composers to name their best stuff symphony number 9?

We don't talk about music enough here. So how 'bout it? Do we have any lovers of art-music here? I use the term "art-music" to describe what laymen call "classical". Classical actually refers to a musical period, that fell between the baroque, and the romantic.

The romantic period... which has nothing at all to do with love songs... is without question my favorite. All the big guns were writing then... Dvorak... the afformentioned russian... and several other russians as well.

The period to me is best represented by Saint-Sean's Danse Macabre'. The Romantic period was typified by music that was designed to tell a story, or describe a scene. In Danse, its all about Death playing the fiddle in a grave yard. You get 12 strokes of a bell to signify Midnight. You get xylophones rattling away like the bones of the dead. The lead violin is actually tuned down partly to create an eerie desonance that you just have to hear. There are little things to find here and there... not to mention memorable themes that jerk your senses around.

And at last... there's even a rooster crow.

It's not the greatest work of the period. But it is the most demonstrative I think. The greatest work... well duh... That would be the New World Symphony, by Antonin Dvorak.

Perhaps its a wine night then? Yeah... I think so too. Hell.. I may even head out and grab a box of wine in honor of JAC!

So what of smokes then? I confess to be undecided at this point... though its unlikely that I'll remain so. I've had some baking in the humidor for a while now... trying to recover them from a dastardly experience... to horrific to describe here... I'm thinkin' their about done.

And guns? Guns.... I like them. The topic of gun talk shall be recreational. Who all breaks clays? DrWho and I love it. JAC and Mrs JAC love it. Do you? Whatcha shoot? What's your game?

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

Oklahoma City: Part 1

It Wasn't Just fertilizer.

The first thing I am going to do here is destroy the government's story. Actually... It's been done a hundred times before. So it isn't really that tough for me. What you will find here was compiled from several sources in a book by David Hoffman. The information is easily verifiable, should you choose to distrust Mr Hoffman's word or his extensive bibliography. I've actually looked up some of the numbers myself, just to check. Buckle up kids. Here we go:

- In a letter hand-delivered to each member of Congress U.S. Air Force Brigadier General, Benton K. Partin stated:

"When I first saw the pictures of the truck-bomb's asymmetrical damage to the Federal Building, my immediate reaction was that the pattern of damage would have been technically impossible without supplementing demolition charges at some of the reinforcing concrete column bases. For a simplistic blast truck-bomb, of the size and composition reported, to be able to reach out on the order of 60 feet and collapse a reinforced column base the size of column A-7 is beyond credulity. "

When it comes to things like this, we should listen to General Partin. He was personally responsible for practically every non-nuclear test the Air Force ran on this sort of thing... meaning... when it comes to blowing up buildings with bombs, particularly pattern damage... he's one of the brightest guys on the planet.

- Dr Samuel Cohen also knows a little about explosives... considering he invented the Neutron Bomb. In a letter sent to Representative Charles Key he states:"It would have been absolutely impossible and against the laws of nature for a truck full of fertilizer and fuel oil, no matter how much was used to bring the building down."

- Dr. Roger Raubach, a Professor of Chemistry, who served on the research faculty of Stanford University says: "General Partin's assessment is absolutely correct. I don't care if they pulled up a semi-trailer truck with 20 tons of ammonium-nitrate; it wouldn't do the damage we saw there." He goes on to say, in an interview with The New American magazine: "The detonation velocity of the shock wave from an ANFO (ammonium-nitrate/fuel-oil) explosion is on the order of 3,500 meters per second. In comparison, military explosives generally have detonation velocities that hit 7,000 to 8,000-plus meters per second. The most energetic single-component explosive of this type, C-4--which is also known as Cyclonite or RDX--is about 8,000 meters per second and above. You don't start doing big-time damage to heavy structures until you get into those ranges, which is why the military uses those explosives."

- Blasters agree: Sam Gronning has been blowing things up professionally for over 30 years. He also told New American: "I set off a 5,000 lb ANFO charge. I was standing 1,000 feet from it, and all it did was muss my hair, take out the mud in the creek that we were trying to get rid of, and shatter a few leaves off the trees around it. It didn't cause any collateral damage to any of the deeply set trees that were within 20 feet of it."

- ANFO just isn't a very good explosive for big work. A publication from the Atlas Powder company states:"agricultural fertilizer prills when made into ANFO had very poor explosive characteristics. They would not detonate efficiently because of their high density, lack of porosity and heavy inert coatings of anti-setting agents. The ability of an oiled prill to be detonated depends greatly upon the density of the prill. Dense prills, such as agricultural grade, often are not detonable at all; or if initiated, perform at a very low rate of detonation and may die out in the bore hole performing no useful work.

-- Army demolition manuals clearly state, ANFO is not good for destroying concrete or steel, as stated in Army Manual TM 31-210: Improvised Munitions Handbook.

- 4800 pounds of ANFO mixed with racing fuel (the 4th and final report the government gave on the explosive McVeigh used) would produce a pressure wave of roughly 300lbs per square inch at the blast point, and the force would dissipate quickly with distance. In other words, 30 to 40 feet away, it wouldn't have even scratched the paint off the Murrah Building, which, contrary to Soldier of Fortune's hit piece, was actually designed to withstand earth-quakes, and explosive attack.

- According to the engineers and architects who designed the Murrah building, the concrete used was designed to withstand pressures of 2000 to 4000 pounds per square inch.

- According to concrete manufacturers that estimate is very low, and doesn't account for steel reinforcement, which would put the numbers closer to 10,000 psi.

- Several otherwise intelligent people who would like to refute this evidence like to site several other ANFO bombings that produced substantial damage, such as the Marine Bunker that got trashed in Beirut in 1982. They neglect to consider that the bomb in that case was detonated from inside the building, and the building was smaller, and infinitely lighter than the Murrah building. Some other examples:

In the summer of 1996, an IRA truck-bomb detonated in the heart of Manchester's financial district. The device, constructed of ANFO and 3,500 pounds of Semtex, a high-velocity, military-grade plastic explosive, caused considerable damage to the surrounding buildings, but left them relatively intact. Although the device managed to break a lot of windows and injure 206 people, no one was killed.

On June 25, 1996, a tanker-trailer packed with RD-X plastic explosives blew up outside the Khobar Towers apartment complex at King Abdul Aziz Air Base in Saudi Arabia, killing 19 American servicemen and injuring hundreds more. While the blast produced a crater 35 feet deep and 85 feet across (the crater in Oklahoma was approximately 6 feet deep and 16 feet across, although the government claimed it was 30 feet), it didn't do the same amount of damage done to the Murrah Building--a building constructed to much more rigorous codes and specifications. Yet authorities claim that the bomb was at least the size as that which blew up the Federal Building.

Enough of that silliness. So what did happen? I've not heard any credible talk that denies that there was fertilizer, and probably a fertilizer bomb present. Most likely it was a diversion. Smoke and Mirrors for the real thing, or more specificly things, inside the building. And speaking of that...

- Strategic Investment newsletter reported that a Pentagon study had been leaked which backed up General Partin's analysis:A classified report prepared by two independent Pentagon experts has concluded that the destruction of the federal building in Oklahoma City last April was caused by five separate bombs. The two experts reached the same conclusion for the same technical reasons. Sources close to the Pentagon study say Timothy McVeigh did play a role in the bombing but peripherally, as a "useful idiot." The multiple bombings have a Middle Eastern "signature," pointing to either Iraqi or Syrian involvement.

- David Hall, general manager of KPOC-TV in Ponca City, Oklahoma, who has investigated the ATF's role in the bombing. He gave us some tastey quotes relating to deliveries to the Murrah Building: "We do know that explosives were delivered there without a doubt. We know there were six boxes of 25 to 35 pounds marked 'high explosives' delivered to the building two weeks prior to the explosion. We had contact with the truck driver who was involved in that delivery. The name of the trucking company is Tri-State, located in Joplin, Missouri."

- Tri-State is an explosives carrier.

- Mr Hall also says: "We also know that the ATF had a magazine inside the building, which was illegal. But the floor was blown out of that magazine. And there's some question about what was in there too that created that damage, because that was a foot of concrete that was blown out of that magazine."

- Oklahoma City Fire Marshal Dick Miller reported that a bomb was found on the third floor of the building (in the ATF office actually) that had timer. The timer was set to 9:10am. The bomb had malfunctioned. Other witnesses at the scene saw the bomb squad carry it away, and local news casters mentioned it on air.

- Investigator Phil O'Halloran has Bill Martin of the Oklahoma City Police Department on tape stating that one of the bombs found in the building was two to three five-gallon containers of Mercury Fulminate--a powerful explosive--one not easily obtainable except to military sources.

- According to the CIA Mercury Fulminate residue was found on the roof-tops of several buildings near-by.

- Governor Frank Keating told reporters: "The reports I have is that one device was deactivated, and there's another device, and obviously whatever did the damage to the Murrah Building was a tremendous, very sophisticated explosive device."

- During live coverage KFOR announced: "The second explosive was found and defused. The third explosive was found--and they are working on it right now as we speak. I understand that both the second and the third explosives were larger than the first."

-Channel 4 interviewed terrorism expert Dr. Randall Heather. Dr. Heather stated: "We should find out an awful lot, when these bombs are taken apart. We got lucky today, if you can consider anything about this tragedy lucky. It's actually a great stroke of luck, that we've got defused bombs. It's through the bomb material that we'll be able to track down who committed this atrocity."

To sum up... The Government would have you believe that a couple guys got together... bought fertilizer, rented a truck, mixed up 1000.. I mean... 2000... no.. 4000.... wait... 4800 pound bomb... parked the truck 40 feet from the Murrah Building... and created an explosion that did so much damage to the building that it had to be demolished.

As you can see, this is not possible. ANFO cannot be used to make a shaped charge. Any dynamic engineer or blaster will confirm this. If it were even possible, it would require the same type of electronics used in our nukes.

I reckon at this point you've either been convinced that a truck full of ANFO couldn't have possibly done what they say it did. Either that, or you're gonna head of on a fact finding mission. If you choose the latter, I am confident you will eventually conclude the same thing I did.

Bad Joke WednesdayYa know... it always seems to come around just when ya need to break some tension...

- A man visited his doctor for a regular checkup. The doctor checked him out and gave him some bad news. "There are two things wrong with you," he said. "You have cancer and Alzheimer's."

"Well," said the man, "at least I don't have cancer."

- How are an elephant and a plum the same?

They're both purple, except for the elephant.

- What's green and goes 100mph?

A fuel injected pickle.

- Tired of being broke and stuck in an unhappy marriage, a young husband decided to solve both problems by taking out a large insurance policy on his wife and arranging to have her killed.A "friend of a friend" put him in touch with a nefarious underworld figure, who went by the name of "Artie." Artie explained to the husband that his going price for snuffing out a spouse was $5,000. The husband said he was willing to pay that amount, but that he wouldn't have any cash on hand until he could collect his wife's insurance money.Artie insisted on being paid in part up front. The man opened up his wallet and displayed the single dollar bill that rested inside. Artie sighed, rolled his eyes, and reluctantly agreed to accept the dollar as down payment for the dirty deed.

A few days later, Artie followed the man's wife to the local Safeway grocery store. There, he surprised her in the produce department and proceeded to strangle her with his gloved hands. As the poor unsuspecting woman drew her last breath and slumped to the floor, the manager of the produce department stumbled unexpectedly onto the scene. Unwilling to leave any witnesses behind, Artie had no choice but to strangle the produce manager as well.Unknown to Artie, the entire proceeding were captured by hidden cameras and observed by the store's security guard, who immediately called the police. Artie was caught and arrested before he could leave the store.

Under intense questioning at the police station, Artie revealed the sordid plan, including his financial arrangements with the hapless husband.And that is why, the next day in the newspaper, the headline declared: "Artie chokes two for a dollar at Safeway."

Tuesday, March 15, 2005

A Parable of FaithDuring a flood, a man of extreme faith finds himself stranded on his roof. He gets on his knees and prays for God to deliver him. A few moments later, some rescue workers show up, but he turns them away. "God will deliver me. Save someone else."

He remained on the house praying.

Then some boys came along in a canoe. The water was rising awefully fast... and they asked him to get in with them. He declined... again saying that God would save him.

At last the water was licking at his feet... yet he remained... faithfully praying. God would deliver him.

That's when the helicopter appeared. The workers begged the man to get on board, but he refused. God would save him.

The copter flew away... and shortly there-after the waters rose up and swept the man away to his death.

When he got to Heaven he was furious with God.

"Why didn't you save me?" he demanded.

"I sent you a rescue boat, a canoe, and a helicopter. Why didn't you save yourself?"

Inscribed in gold on the wheel of the CSS Alabama are the words, "God helps those who help themselves."

When one disregards the medical community, and their abilities to heal, one limits God. Miracles are visible in hospitals all around the country, every day.

Just the other day... a patient that everyone knew was brain-dead... who was destined for life as an apricot, simply looked up at her husband and said, "Good Morning."

We must have faith, but we must also do the work. The Walls of Jericho did not fall on their own.

Monday, March 14, 2005

The Fear of Lettin' Down Your KinThis is the sad story of lessons learned the hardway.

This was... Christmas time... somewhere around... I dunno... 1991? JAC, 'Digger, me, and by buddy Dan got together in our old hometown of Owensboro, KY to do some bowlin', drinkin' and carryin' on.

We found our way to this bowlin' alley on the outskirts of town... and commenced to havin' us a big time. Now that I think about it... this is really the last time the three of us went out drinkin'. That's probly best... but I digress...

While we were there... I admit we were actin' a fool. We were commentin' on Digger and Dan's girly bowlin' techniques.... basicly the night degenerated into a fryer's ball... and the guest was whoever's turn it was to bowl.

As you can well imagine... our language was pretty course... and our comments tended to be... well.. fairly vulgar. So much so that the drunk rednecks, and their standard redneck chicks... you know the type... one ultra young and hot, the other fat and skanky, in the next lane were startin' to take offense.

We didn't really think to much of it... their women... and I use the term loosely... were gettin' a bit uppity... and I noticed JAC and Welldigger were well... them two... they ain't to much for takin' shit off anyone... least of all a couple skanks.

One us... Probly digger... leaned way back in his seat.. so as to insure he was heard by the offending parties... and said somthin' along the lines of, "You know... if they don't like it, they can have a coke and a smile, and shut the @#$ up."

That escalated things abit... but not to the point of a confrontation... we just decided to finish our game, and leave. JAC and Digger were both pretty drunk... so we paid, and headed on out to the car.

Since they were drunk, JAC threw me the keys... and we went on out to the boat. Hey... it was 1991 Caprice Classic. Boat better describes this particular vehicle.

Anyway... It was colder than a witches' titty... in a iron bra... face down in the snow! So I put the key to the Corvette in the lock... and it won't turn. I try it again... wont unlock. I hit the unlock button on the remote... battery's dead on the remote.

So I'm trying in vain to open the door of a Caprice Classic with the key to a Corvette... convinced that the lock is frozen... when our friends from inside show up.

I should describe these boys... First of all... there were four of us... and four of them. A conservative estimate would say that on average.... each of them had 50 or 60 pounds on each of us.

The biggest was a blonde haired dude... about 6'3" and about 245. He was a big ol' boy.. and each of them was over 200 pounds easy.

The biggest of us... Dan... was about 165. Not good.

The big ol' boy walks up behind JAC, and before we know we're in a fight...

POW!

Right in the nose. JAC spins around facing the car... and I remember... in the calmest voice he said, "Now you didn't have to go and do that." The he spun around and threw a nasty right-hook that I do believe connected... in spite of the fact that JAC was now blind as bat from his newly broken nose.

That's when I saw the fist coming at me from the corner of my right eye.

Pain.

Why am I seeing stars? Why am I laying down? Where am I? is this the hood of a car? Why does my ear hurt?

I look up to find that I am in fact laying on the hood of the caprice. I have no idea how I got there... All I remember is getting hit... then seeing stars.

Digger says he saw a dude throw me up onto the car. I have no idea what happened... that's as plausible as anything else. Reckon dude just figured I was done.

Anyway.. by the time I came to my senses JAC and the biggest of them were throwin' down. One had turned chickenshit, threw up his arms when Digger got sideways of him.. and about that time I realized the one who'd sucker punched me was standing in front of the car.

I thought of the fancy elephant skin boots I was wearin', and promptly put the heel of my right one square into his sternum.

He hacked, weezed, and stumbled over towarded JAC who was now on one knee... for some reason.. he was tryin' to take his jacket off. I jumped off the hood of the car and took about three quick steps back just see if I could figure out just what in the hell was goin' on.

Here was the situation. JAC's on his knees scrappin' with the Monster of the group. The one I just kicked stumbles over to JAC who's blind as a bat... The poor bastard... He just got kicked in the chest... and now... JAC's grabbed him by the balls! Hell... JAC couldn't see a thing... he didn't realize who he had... he thought he had the fella that was hittin' him... he had know idea there were two... and fixin' to be three of them! The one that backed away from Digger now ran over to help with JAC... Apparently two on one wasn't enough... and I see digger turn psycho.

He shouts "GET OFF HIM!" and kicks the coward in the back! Where the hell is Dan? I take two steps toward the fray when a fat chick jumps in front of me.

What the hell?

Apparently it wasn't enough that we had these 4 big ol' boys on us... their chicks were gonna help to. Great.

Out of suprise I stopped, turned sideways and almost threw a punch... then I realized it was the fat chick from iside.

Over her shoulder I see this little girl, the hot one from inside... rush at JAC. By now, the one guy who had his nuts squeezed, and his sternum kicked in has also taken a couple shots to the throat and was limping away... not lookin' to good... That left two for Digger, and the biggest one... well, he was windin' up for a kill shot on JAC...

That's when JAC noticed the hot girl runnin' at him. He hunkers down to kinda deflect her impact... and ***CRUNCH***.

I tell ya... it was a sickening sound. This 240 pound dude, had just wound up, and crushed this girl right in the face.

She took his kill shot. Her head whipped back and she dropped like she'd been blasted by a 10-gauge.

The fat chick in front of me looked like she was gonna be sick. We both saw that girl's head thrown back... to a degree that your neck just don't bend on its own.

Big man doesn't have any idea what just happened... none of them do... one of them thinks JAC hit the chick and is about to freak when we all hear sirens and see blue and red flashes. That's when three guys ran off, carryin' one girl, and with a fat girl chooglin' along behind... and then the one guy limped off... real slow... holdin' his sack... and not breathin' real good.

We were smaller than they were... and we were out-numbered... because the biggest among us had R-U-N-N-O-F-T to call the law... and if I remember correctly... two of them had fixed blade huntin' knives in their belts.

We came out ok all things considered. JAC had a broke nose... which wasn't so bad except for the humilation of bleedin' all over everything... Digger came out with some scratches and bruises, but he definately gave better than he got. I had a swole up ear and scratches here and there... but for the most part, besides a punch and kick, I wasn't really involved.

I don't really understand why the biggest one of us chose to run off and call the cops...

Anyway... The benefit of livin' in a small town is that everyone knows ya. Turns out the cops who showed up went to Highschool with JAC. None of us will ever forget what he said when he found out who was scrapin' with us...

"Hell... sounds to me like you boys shoulda had guns. Sure woulda saved us some trouble."

Within a year of this JAC had his concealed carry license... I believe digger also aquired a rather substancial handgun in that same time frame.

To wrap up the loose ends... it turns out that the county already had these boy's asses in a sling. The big one... who was supposedly defending the honor of those two girls? Remember? The ones who were offended by our language?

Yeah... turns out... that girl he was with... the pretty one... who he ended up hittin' in the face... Well she was 14... and she was his niece. And he was going to jail for screwin' her repeatedly. They were all four either wanted, or out on bail, or parole.

You know... its funny how something like this effects ya. For years after this... and I mean years... I'd lay awake at night trying to figure out if I could've done anything better. I wondered if I'd just chickened out and froze up while my brothers were in the scrape of a life time.

I remember seein' JAC on his knees... gettin' pummeled by a guy twice his size... blind as a bat... but he's still holdin' on to that one dude's balls, and swingin' away with his free hand.

I remember Digger divin' in... damn the torpedos... he was gonna kill'em all bare handed.

It was all slow motion. It was over in seconds... and I was dazed as hell from the shot I took. What I remeber is pieced together from still, disjointed, timeless frames of memory. Why hadn't I sprinted for that car, jumped over it, and smashed somebody in the head?

I layed awake worrying about that... until I made up my mind that I would never let my guard down again. I made up my mind that I would never be caught in a fight that I didn't see coming. Lookin' back now... knowing what I know now... and with 14 years of experience and a few more fights under my belt... I realize that I really got clocked. I just wasn't there. If someone had been swinging at me, I'da had the instinct to defend myself... but in that situation... I couldn't see through the haze to make any sort of decision.

If you ever asked yourself... what creates Mr Prepared Super Self-Reliant fight till the last pump of his diein' heart som-bich like me?

Its the fear of failin' your kin.

I hope Digger and JAC blog on this... or tell their side of it here. Time and Distance change a lot of things... so the facts may not even be close to what I remember. Hell... I admit that I was in no sound state of mind. I ain't 100% sure I didn't get knocked out.

Anyway... I've rambled long enough... but I'll say one more thing.. I'm proud as hell of my brothers, and the way the handled themselves that night. JAC was double, and triple-teamed the whole time... he never backed down a damn bit. And Digger... hell... You can say a lot of bad things about Digger... You can say... He's uglier than a lop-eared pole cat... and he aint got no hair... and you can even say he's got a little pecker... But boys... You cain't say that' n cain't fight. I'll take him to war with me any day, provided he's on my side. He's meaner than a snake.

And that's that. All those sleepless nights... that sick feelin' in the stomach... That's what made me the freak you read about.

BRACKET DAYYou can't tell me this isn't a holiday. The Monday after Selection Sunday annually sees a measureable dip in production across the nation. Its the one day a year when almost ever male actually looks forward to going off to Cubical Hell.

It's a day deserving of a national holiday... but designating it as such would kill it. After all, the whole thing centers around filling out your bracket and talking about it with those with whom you work.

Wait.. it's occured to me... some of you may not know what I'm talkin' about... JamieR for example... NCAA Tournament brackets people... keep up.

So lets break it down shall we?

First of all... Washington getting a 1 seed is just pathetic. It's about as pathetic as Louisville getting a 4 seed. That section of the bracket is without question the easiest. It will come down to the Cardinals against Wake.... And it'll be a toss up. I'm going with Louisville.

The most intriguing braket is Duke's. Can Duke beat 'cuse? Yes. Will they? Probably. it's no lock. Will UK get out of the second round this year? They should. They have the talent to make a deep run. This bracket should come down to Duke and UK... in another toss up. On paper, UK is the better team. They have a serious edge at point with Rhondo.

UK's looked terrible the last 2 weeks.. and its been about 3 weeks since they've played really good ball... It's a toss up. If I seem to be ignoring Duke here.. it's because I honestly don't think their play will have any effect on the outcome. If UK plays good ball, they'll beat Duke, no matter what Duke does. If UK plays bad, they'll get beat, even if Duke plays bad too. In short... Duke cannot play as well as UK can... but they can't play as badly either.

The heart says UK... the head says UK... The back of my mind says UK is out in the second round... ***Sigh***

What about the other brackets?

Alabama and LSU will give Illinois fits, and as hard as it is to believe... Illinois will probably beat both of them.

And don't let anyone fool you about the last bracket. UNC is going to the Final 4.

So that's it then...

UNC, UL, Illinois, and UK/Duke.

That's all you're gettin' outta me. I decided to go with the Final Five this year.

Heep Bad JuJu MonThis is a bad sign people. The Financial Times ain't exactly the Prudent Bear. When they are talking about bankruptcy firms hiring new staff... well... it don't take a genius to figure out what's on the way.

This isn't to say that the economic world is going to end tomarrow. It is one more sign for those of us who are looking.

Company's start going belly up, individuals get laid off and can't make the payments on that new 125% mortgage. The dominos are lined up and spaced right. We're just waitin' for the first to fall.

When the bloodsuckers start gearing up... you can bet that they know something.

Now... I'm off to check the provisions... clean the guns... stack some ammo... and hope for the worst.

Sunday, March 13, 2005

There are few menfolk around here who have bought this whole idea of men being in the delivery room hook, line, and sinker. I've needled them a few times... but man... JAC just pulled out the Bastard Sword and slapped 'em.

Fact is, you do nothing in there but give the nurses someong else to worry about. You actually take their attention away from your wife, who needs it. I can't tell you how often men passout or nearly passout in that room. That means you're doin' more harm than good boys.

Sit out in the waiting room where you belong. Allow your wife some dignity for cryin' out loud. She deserves the honor of being presentable when she introduces you to your child.

CSI = BSThere is a great deal to be learned about modern law enforcement by examining the way they handle the high-profile cases. Peterson for example...

One might conclude that this is excellent police work... at least if you only look at the surface.

But was it?

What if Scott hadn't been an idiot? What if Scott hadn't reported her missing? Even knowing where to look, it took a month or so for the police to find the bodies. How would the police have even found out about it?

If Scott had just done the deed, and left.. He could've been halfway around the world before the police even classified it as a murder. Heck, until they found Lacy and Connor's bodies, they would have no reason to suspect Scott. They'd just have 3 missing persons. And how long would it have taken them to find the bodies? It took a month to find them as is, and that's with them knowing where to look!

Sure Lacy's parents would be calling to check on her, and after a day or so they'd go to the cops and report them missing... but umm... Ya think the cops are gonna move out an army to help? Yeah... you go to the cops and tell them your son and daughter-in-law have been missing for 3 days and see how much help you get. They don't give out Amber Alerts for whole families "missing". Fact is you'd have a hard time even convincing the cops that they weren't off in Vegas.

Plain truth is... Law enforcement in America, and in the world, is a joke. 90% or more of all the cases that come in get shoved in the "We Hope Someone Tells Us Who Did This" File. CSI may look good on tv... but the fact is, its BS. Its the lottery.

More often than not, the person who tells the cops who did it, is the guy who did it.

Boys... listen up... if you ever find yourself in a little room with a two-way mirror and a couple cops talkin' to ya... do yourself a favor.

Shut up.

Don't say a word. Don't ask for food or drink. Don't ask for a cigarette. Nothing. Offer no alibi for them to check out. Give them no place to start.

That shouldn't matter though... because if you do it right... you'll never find yourself in that room.

The plane truth is... there are thousands of murders committed every year, that never even get classified as a murder. They're just missing persons... cops munching on donuts... waiting on bodies to show up.

If Scott Peterson doesn't report Lacy missing...

He's sittin' on a beach in Mexico right now, with no threat of deportation. Because the Mexican government will not deport someone who's facing charges that could result in the death penalty, or life in prison.

The Next ProjectSee... I have this 1981 Honda CM400c. So I'm thinkin' of customizing it. The lines on it are great I think... the seat just totally blows 'em though. it's just to big and bulky. I figure I'll fabricate up a custom seat pan... something that will carry the line of the tank down and through the frame.

Then I'll have to do something with those fenders... May remove them completely... or may get some blanks and start from there.

As far as other stuff goes.. I'll need to stretch her hind end out to put a decent rear tire on there... nothing insane... maybe a 170....

Other than that... I figure I'll coat the engine black... with polished up highlights... So it'll sorta match the wheels.

In the end... I think it'll be cooler than any BS custom chopper you go pay 30 grand for. Why? Well... because it'll be real. Choppers where bikes... that you bought, and chopped yourself. It was yours. You designed it. You fabricated it. Its your bike.

Of course... before I do all this... I have to get it runnin'... stupid intake is leakin' on me.... I've got the take off right now... and I'm about this close to just ripping the whole durn bike apart.

Ah well... it'll be fun one way or another. I mean... Its a $500 bike. If I totally ruin it... I'll still have learned somethin'.

Friday, March 11, 2005

ATF!Ah! My friends another week is in the books... and that leaves but one thing undone... So where are we?

Let's see... "George Jones and Jesus", and "Beer's not just for breakfast anymore" are playin', along with a healthy dose of Jason Boland, and of course... Chris Ledoux.

Its bourbon and coke tonight.. Jim Beam Black for the mixer... maybe some Elijah Craig'll get poured in there too... after all.. EC is got might more kick.

St Patty's day is upon us... and while I'll have none of the stuff... I figured I'd drop the name of some Irish Whiskys if you were intersted...

Hehehe.. Had ya goin' there for while didn't I? Hehehe.. We at the BloggerBlaster don't support the makers of such. We find it vulgar, and low, and course.

I know you guys loved Makers and Woodford's... I'd be interested in hearing if any of you have tried anything new lately that maybe I should know about. American Whiskey only please.

And while we're on the topic of booze... A Box of Wine. Thoughts? Low Class? Or Best delivery method available?

So.. that tunes... booze... ahh... SMOKES!

Raise your hand if you roll your own! It won't suprise anyone to hear that JAC and I do... at least.. we do if we're smokin' cigarettes... which really ain't very often at all. WellDigger buys those nasty tar-filled things though... unbelievable.

I don't see myself rollin' tonight though. Nope.. I think it's a cigar night... hrmmm.... what to choose.. the humidor is full ya know. Maybe I'll update ya later.

So what's that leave??

GUNS!

Excellent!

I've found myself lusting for a Ruger Vaquero... well.. actually... two of them... in .45lc... with a lever gun in 45lc too! man that'd be fun!

Of course... any carbine in the same chamber as a handgun would be fun... you could even plink off some 9mm with a little keltec carbine! I love that gun.

Julie was admitted to the hosptial on Friday November 1, 2002. The poor girl was in a bad way. She was having serious blood pressure issues, combined with recently discovered Oligo-hydraminos... That's doctor talk for "baby ain't got much fluid in there with him".

I can honestly say, when we got to the hospital... we were good patients. We brought a bunch of CDs, a Playstation... cards... we were set man, and we were very very patient and understanding with the nurses and staff.

By Saturday it was determined that they would induce the next day. So we spent that day resting up, and watching UT get slaughtered by Miami. We called everyone and let them know Jeb was on the way, and settled in for the long haul. We just had no idea how long a haul it would be.

After much stress and frustration, they finally hung the pitosen sunday afternoon. Julie went all night... with pretty much no change.

This of course wasn't suprising.. since the nurse had let the pit run out the night before. 12 hours wasted. Thanks honey. Still though... we were good patients. We were understanding... calm... and easy to get along with.

My parents were on the way up, and so was Julie's mom.

By Monday afternoon progress is still slow. We're gettin' the family all settled in, running to and fro. I guess it was around 7pm when it was decided that I needed to go home to make sure everyone could get into the house, and to tend to the dogs.

So... While I'm home... trying to grab a bite to eat, and letting the neglected beast mitrate... I get a call. It's Julie. I hear exactly what I hadn't dreamed I'd hear.

"They aren't gonna do anything until you get here. But you need to get here. Now."

You've got to be shitting me. We've been waiting aroudn for 3 days and now... all the sudden... we don't have time for me to eat a sandwich. GAH!

Ok, I get the dogs in, run outside, purposefully leaving the door unlocked so our people can get in... I hop in the Trooper, and bail to the Hospital. Not two blocks from my house I see my parents Expadition pullin' up. Serendipity!

I stop, stick my head out and say, "Don't talk. Follow."

They did.

In a panic, we make it to the hospital and rush up to the room... to find that Jeb's heart beat is taking some pretty nasty dips related to the contractions. Not good. The doctors are starting to talk about C-sections. I'm thinking this is a good thing... but hey... I'm not the one that'd be cut open.

At this point, Julie was open to the C-Section. She just wanted to call her mom and let her know what was going on.

Then some how... after she talked to her mom... she was somehow less open to the c-section. After some talking with the doc's, it was decided to go ahead and get the epidural, and to wait it out... to see if the heart rate didn't stop dropping.

This was of course... the biggest mistake we made. We should've had them do the c-section immediately. It was stupid. Both Jeb, and Julie would be paying the price for it directly. I know... Hind sight's 20/20... and its so nice to say "we made the best decision at the time". But its a cop-out. Julie shoulda been sectioned. Right then.

But she wasn't.

Now... getting an epidural is an experience for anyone... but... when you're an anesthesia resident... well... it gets a little more complicated.

Of course... we called Curt. Curt has a gift. He's one of those guys with no nerves. Largely I think its related to stupidity though. It just never occurs to the boy that failure is possible. In these situations, where they know the patient, anesthesiologists always get squirrelly... They think.. "What if I wet-tap her?"

Not Curt. Ask Curt, "What if you wet-tap her?" He'd just look at you funny and say, "Why would I do that?" Not because he's a smartass... though he is a smartass.... it just doesn't occur to him.

Well.. Curt shows up to do the epidural, but the other resident on call... We'll call him Shack... is pretty much a stud too. He and curt talk about it outside and decide Shack will do it. We didn't care. Shack hadn't wet-tapped anyone in over a year.

Right before he puts the needle in... I look at him and I say... "This is my wife... I love her very much... and I have an extensive firearms collection."

Lookin' back... that was a dumb thing to say.

He gets nervous... He wet-taps her. The attending... Has to come in and fix it all... and Julie spend next couple hours pounding cokes to relieve the worst headache in the history of pain. God bless Caffiene.

So... epidural is in... pain is gone. Unnaturally huge contractions are coming and going... and the only way we know, is by watching the monitor. Julie literally can sleep through them. I don't know if you've ever considered not getting an epidural... but after reading this... I doubt you will again. Remember people... you get them in case something goes wrong.

Well... by this point things have slowed down. Julie's not progressing... and the heart rate is no longer dipping... so apparently the C-section has been takin' off the table. It doesn't look like Jeb's comin' anytime soon... So we send my mom and dad back to our place to drop off their stuff and tend to the dogs.

I guess it was about 45 minutes later... around 10pm monday night... when Julie looks up and says... "I kinda feel like I need to push."

Well.... they checked her.. sure enough.. It was time to rock and roll.

RING!

Phone? What the hell?

It was Mom. Our basement was flooded. Can you believe this? What else could go wrong? Hehehe... A lot. Believe me. Cell phones were ringing. Julie's mom was there in the room with us... you can imagine how stressed we were... so that wasn't a good thing... I told mom and dad to forget the basement... it was go time. They needed to get their butts to the hospital.

So... After much confusion, consternation, frustration, and irritation... not to mention some very tense moments between me and the ol' mother-in-law... We settle down for the show to begin.

Turns out there is only a midwife, and her assistant on call... so that's who we're stuck with. There's only 1 OB in the whole hospital and he's already got a couple sections to do. Thank you West Virginia.

Now... please understand. I didn't want to be in this room at all. I wanted to be outside, in the waiting room... WHERE MEN BELONG.

The only reason I was there, was for Julie. I had no interest in seeing a birth. In fact, I was assured that seeing a birth, or being exposed to any of that bidness was simply not a possibility.

This just in! WOMEN LIE!

Seriously. Imagine goin' back to 1710, and telling a man he needed to watch his wife deliver. That's pretty much the same attitude I had. I wanted no part of birthin' no baby.

But there I was.

So Julie pushes... and pushes.... and pushes. We're talking hard pushes here too... My wife's no wimp. Girl is strong like a freak.

And... am I sitting next to her? Uninvolved... just looking at the wall and holding her hand?

Hell no.

This psycho midwife has ME right in the middle of all this! Now what am I gonna do? Am I gonna suck it up, and do what has to be done? Of course I am. So, I go to my happy place... and do what I'm told.

Holy crap man... you people have no idea. They had Julie and I playing tuck of war with a towell while she was pushing! They had all sorts of hippy crap going on... they even tried to get Julie to squat!!!

I don't remember most of it... I just know it was the most horrifying, uncomfortable, and disturbing experience of my life to that point... but that record would soon be blown straight to hell and gone.

At some point... I don't know when exactly... but I noticed my mom was looking very very nervous. After talking to her.. it occured to us... Julie had been pushing for.. oh... 3 hours!

This was not good. Jeb's heart rate was dropping. Things were lookin' scary. The assistant mid-wife went to find the mid-wife... who hadn't been in to check on Julie in over 2 and a half hours... not really her fault mind you... they had 5 deliveries in that time...

While we waited... I remember Julie's mom decided we should all pray together... then... in what has to go down in history as one of the most uncomfortable moments of all time... She lays her hand on Julie's stomach and starts chattering away... some prayer that I swear I've heard Benny Hen spout off... Curt.. My mom.. My dad... we were all in there... and here she is... chatterin' away... Curt later told me... "Oh I was prayin' all right.. I was prayin... Dear Lord! Please keep Nate from throwin' this psycho out that window over there."

When the mid-wife finally came in to check Julie... she was visibily upset. She asked Julie how she felt... Julie was fine though... she coulda pushed for another 2 or 3 hours if she had to, she just wanted to do what was best for Jeb.

The midwife was tryin' to be tactful in a situation that required none.. and it was only makin' things worse...

It was decided that she'd give the suction device a try... so she shoves what amounts to a suction cup attached to a bicycle pump up in my wife, and starts pulling.. It keeps slipping off though, and after the third time.. she calls it off.

Now at this point, the vibe is not good. Everyone knows Jeb needs to come out and come out now. So in a last ditch effort she decides to call up the emergency OB chick to see about a forcep delivery.

So... Have you ever seen these things? The woman wheels in... not a cart... a toolbox. and on it, she lays out an array of 17th century torture devices. She then checks my wife... gives the midwife a dirty look, and says she thinks she can get him.

I can't honestly say I remember what happened next. I just know that at some point I realized that this woman had shoved stainless steel salad spoons about 2 feet into my wife, and she was leaning back... at like a 30 degree angle... occasionally throwing all of her weight back, trying to pull Jeb out. I was looking everywhere but at the action... when I realized... across the room, at exactly the right angle... was a mirror. HOLY CRAP MAN! She's tryin' to pull the kid out by his hips!! At least that's what it looked like. I didn't puke, or passout.. but if I'da been armed I may have shot myself. Seriously... if it weren't for the flask of Knob Creek that came to the hospital with me... I'da never made it.

This horror went on for way to long.

Finally Jeb popped out... so bruised and battered he looked like he was blue from not breathing. The OB who delivered him had blood from head to toe. Everyone immediately took to tending to Jeb... but I couldn't... I'd just seen my wife disemboweled.

I'd love to tell you this is where the story ends... but it doesn't end here at all. In fact... we were discharged on Thursday of that week... and then both Jeb and Julie were readmitted on Friday, afternoon...

The complications from this affair went on for two months...

And I tell you all that... to tell you this...

As far as I'm conserned... Julie gets to push for 15 minutes this time. If we ain't got a baby... They're cuttin' the little bugger out.

Thursday, March 10, 2005

He was born in Biloxi, Mississippi on October 2, 1948. He was an air force brat... and spent most of his childhood in Austin, Tx.

He entered his first rodeo at 13.

He went to high school in Wyoming, and at 17 won the Bareback State Championship... which earned him a rodeo scholarship to go to college on.

He studied here and there, until he eventually won the Intercollegant National Championship, and after that... the only thing left was professional rodeo.

He took up singin' and song writin' about the same time he took up rodeo... and to supplement his winnings, he started recording tapes in his daddy's basement, and sellin' them outta the back of his pickup truck at rodeos.

In 1976, he became the PRCA World Champion.

By 1988, he'd recorded 22 albums on his own, and sold over 200,000 copies.

In 1989, Garth Brooks dropped his name in a song... and the attention was finally to much for the quiet cowboy to walk away from. He finally signed a record deal with Capital and ended up record several top40 country albums.

Toby Keith sings that he shoulda been a cowboy.

Well... He was a Cowboy. Bareback World Champion. Workin' Ranch owner... in Kaycee Wyoming for any of you who're interested...

His authenticity was such... that simply by droppin' his name, Garth Brooks went from being a Pop Country Icon, to a real cowboy singer.

He leaves behind a legacy that likely will never be matched. He was more Outlaw than Waylon, more Cowboy then King George, and was likely the best songwriter since Hank Williams.

I wish I could come up with something more polished to say about the man. But... I guess he'd prefer simple anyways.

So Dell fired 30 muslims for leaving their workstations at sunset to pray. I have to say, I admire the romanticism inherent in the requirement and the practice. But apply it universally and you end up with some pretty serious problems.

I mean... Pilots and co-pilots are supposed to stop flying and pray? Surgeons, Nurses, and Anesthesiologists are just supposed to walk out of the ORs, and leave the patient lyin' on the table?

This is wear Americanization comes in. You either fit in with our society, or you don't. This doesn't mean you stop being muslim. But it does mean, if you require a few minutes at sunset, you get a job that allows for such. This is simply not possible in a modern production environment.

Two things about this shock me... One, that companies actually have the balls to do it, and two, that so far, it has stood up in court.

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

The first science course I took in college was Geology. I hated chemistry... biology didn't do it for me... and I figured... geology was an excellent alternative. Little did I know...

The first day of class our professor walks into the room... takes role... then asks the class... "How old is the world?"

No one said anything.

"Ok.. let me ask it a different way. How many of you believe the world is 5000 years old?"

About 8 people in a class of 30 raise their hand.

"Ok... now how many of you believe the world is several million years old?"

Pretty much the rest of the class raised their hands.

The next 3 hours were spent making fun of the 8 folks who thought the world was 5000 years old. Complete with tales making fun of christians and other "ignorant people". When we left class that night I knew most of those 8 kids wouldn't be there next week. They'd drop the class. And why shouldn't they?

It was sickening to see how impressionable those kids were. They walked out repeating the same lines the professor had used. It was as bad an example of a cult of personality as I had ever seen.

The next week... a few principled christians lighter... the professor began by explaining the "Unitarian Assumption". Words I'll never forget. "Geology is based on the assumption that processes that can be observed at work, have always been at work."

He asked us to write that down.

So ended my respect for the "science" of geology. I was interested though. So much so that I was kicking around the idea of dropping music ed. for geology. For the most part the semester went very very well. I kept an A average for the class... which for me, at the time, was astounding.

I didn't finish with an A though... far from it. See... about 4 weeks till the final exam, the "age of the earth" discussion came up again. This time it was more heated. A couple of the kids had brought some ammo of their own, and were taking shots at the professors anecdotes. The Cult didn't take it well, and neither did the cult leader.

I had remained silent throughout... which in and of itself was strange enough to raise a few eyebrows. Normally I was more than willing to shoot someone down, or ask a tricky question. But not that night. That was a fight I was gonna stay out of. I just didn't see how anything good could come of it.

So... for once... I had decided... and wisely I might add... to keep my big mouth shut.

Unfortunately... my reputation wouldn't allow for such a thing. With about 15 minutes to go in the class... and with debate reaching a fever pitch... The professor decided to call me out. Why shouldn't he? He knew I was a cocky little prick. He knew I generally considered myself to be the brightest kid in the class... and at least once, he'd alluded to the fact himself. So... he went looking for someone to throw a haymaker.... for someone who'd say something more pointed than he felt like he could. He looked over... and saw me sittin' there quietly. No doubt he figured I was layin' for someone.

"What do you make of all this Mr Cherolis?"

"Me? Well... What was it you said? Processes that can be observed at work, have always been at work? That's sounds pretty good. Except... I'm looking through the scientific method here... and I don't see the word 'assume' anywhere."

Silence.

"Scientists don't make assumptions sir, and sciences are not based on them."

And that's how my flirtation with Geology ended. I got a D for the semester, barely passing. The lab techs and the professor made it clear that I was persona non grata, only to be passed if absolutely necessary. Any assignment that offered the slightest room for subjectivity resulted in a very low grade for me. By the end, I simply stop doing the work. I got every answer on the multiple choice final correct, got 100% on the lab final, which consisted of identifing 24 different substances... but I failed the essay portion completely... as was the norm those last few weeks.

- A man is a bus driver on Sesame Street and insists on meeting all of his riders. At the first stop, two overweight women got on the bus; both are named Patty. At the next stop, a mentally challenged boy named Ross got on. At the final stop, a disgusting man named Lester Freeze got on, took off his shoes, and picked at his bunions.

When the bus driver got home, his wife asked him if he met anyone new that day. He said, "Two obese Patties, special Ross; Lester Freeze picks his bunions on a Sesame Street bus."

-A dentist found something wrong with one of his patients. The upper plate that had been put in earlier was corroding. "What have you been eating?" the dentists asked the man."All I can think of is that about three months ago my wife made some asparagus and put Hollandaise sauce on it. I loved it so much, I put it on everything now.""That's the problem," the dentist said, frowning. "Hollandaise sauce contains lemon juice, which is highly corrosive. I'll make you a new plate, and this time use chrome."

"Why chrome?"

"It's simple. Everyone knows there's no plate like chrome for the Hollandaise."

-Why did the banana put on sun-tan lotion?

To keep from peeling.

-Said Helvetica Narrow to Helvetica Bold: "Hey, you're just my type."

-What is yellow and wears a mask?

The Lone Lemon.

-Two sausages are in a frying pan. One says, "Geez, it's hot in here isn't it?"

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

Stupid VegansFew things get on my nerves like Vegans and Coffee House People. I suppose the worst think I can think of would be a damned yankee vegan sippin' a latte' in a star bucks somewhere. I've never met that guy... but if I did.. I can tell ya... somebody'd get his ass whooped.

Seriously.... How stupid do you got to be? Feel those sharp teeth in the corners of your mouth? We call those canines. Betcha can't guess what they're for!

And ummm... QUICK! Name a herbivore that has its eyes on the front of its head. Ya can't. You know why? Because predators have eyes on the front.

Of course.... this isn't to say that I don't get great amusment from the human herbivores. Esspecially you consider...

Do y'all know what Vitamin B-12 is, and where it comes from?

I could go into detail and explain exactly how it works... but all you really need to know is what happens when you don't get enough of it.

See... we all have a certain amount stored up in us.... and the more we are deprived of it, the more that amount gets depleted. Eventually... it will run out. If you've been a vegan ever since you stopped breast feeding... then chances are... you'll already have run out by the time you can read this... and considering what happens when you run out... well.. you'll likely never be able to read anyway.

See... B-12 deficency slowly but surely... makes you stupid. This is why you don't find conservative vegans. This is also why you don't find vegan dynamic engineers... or vegan radiologists. Those fields simply require to much brain power.

Another great source of amuzment is all the b-12 supplements out there... that are marketed toward vegans.

See... there is only one way to get b-12. It has to come from a critter. So, if there is b-12 in a pill, then a critter somewhere died for that pill.

So there are your choices. You can deprive yourself of all animal products... therefore getting no b-12, and damn yourself to a life of stupidity and frailty....

Monday, March 07, 2005

11 months. We have 11 more months... maybe 12. Then we can be shed of this God-Forsaken Hell Hole.

Its really not so bad...

Fact is... There isn't anything wrong with Morgantown that a small Thermo-Nuclear Device wouldn't fix.

*** Update *** It was 60 degrees and sunny yesterday... well... sunny by West Virginia standards... which is to say... to you folks in the South and West... it was sorta overcast. I go to bed last night at 1am... and its coolish and raining. I wake up at 5 am... and there is 3 inches of snow and its colder than a witch's titty. God I hate this place.

Sunday, March 06, 2005

Do Not Read Before LunchWhat are you doing? Do you realize what time it is?

I told you not to read. Ok... Fine.. don't blame me though...

So...

Curt.. you remember my boy Curt... My ridin' buddy... Curt's an anesthesiologist. He works with DrWho... and this here tale I'm about to unfold... well... You might say... that the protagonist... if there is such a thing in a story as stupifyin' as this... is him.

It all starts one day at the begining of his shift... when Curt was goin' to see a patient for a pre-operation talk. He was gonna be handlin' the anesthesia ya see...

So before Curt gets into the room... an internist who's been handlin' the patient stops him. He says.. "I don't envy you."

Now I don't know how much y'all know about doctorin', but let me tell ya.. That ain't a good sign.

This is where I offer you one more chance to back out. Seriously... you know why I'm writin' this way? Right. Because I'm drunk. Wanna guess why I'm drunk?

BECAUSE CURT JUST TOLD ME THIS STORY!

Alright... Keep readin'... see if I care...

From this point on.... I tell this from Curts eyes...

So Curt says... "Why? What's wrong?"

The internist... and I don't like typing the word internest.. so from now on I'm gonna call him Jake.

So Jake says... "We Curt... That's a big ol' girl in there.. and she's got a big ol' husband... and well... Son.... I found um... I found... well.... shit.. I better start at the begining..."

See.. it turns out... these two... really really fat people... they have a little sex game they like to play....

She takes food... sweets usually... and.. umm..

She hides them... Hides them... in her... her... ummm... her fat rolls. Then her nasty husband comes in... to find the food... hidden in her folds... which he then eats... then.. the two great bloated sows copulate!!!

How do we know this???

Because she TOLD poor Jake all about it.

Why did she tell poor Jake?

Well... See... Somehow she had to explain just why.... during his physical examimation....

HE FOUND A TWINKY!!!!

A TWINKY!!! HIDDEN IN A FAT ROLL!!!!

Who knows how long this things been there! Actually we do know... she said it was about a week... Now.. You tell me doctors make to much money. Have you ever dug through a fat lady's rolls to find sweets??? Let me tell ya... THAT is a bad day a work people!

The Real NumbersUsing 1965's 900 as a baseline for the dow... and comparing today's dow of around 10,000... we've got ourselves what seems to be a hefty 12x increase.

A quick jaunt over to see the money chimp reveals however, that in order to get a 12x increase over 40 years... you really only need a 6.21% rate of return.

So, not accounting for inflation... thats the Dow. 6.21%. Not 10%. Not 20%. Over 40 years... 6.21%.

Now... setting aside the fact that we have no legitimate matrix for measuring inflation.... at least not since the CPI was utterly bastardized... Lets, for arguements sake, compare the CPI of today, to say... 1965.

CPI today: 158

CPI 1965: 31

That's a 5x increase over the same period. Roughly, 3% per year.

So considering that the Dow... with all its wrangling... still only manages to outperform inflation, by a measly 3% a year....

And considering also... that bit that we previously set-aside... you know... the bit where the Feds simply cook the books, removing this and adding that, to make the CPI growth apear to be something around 3%.

With all of this deck stacking... you still end up with a pretty crappy investment return.

Kids... if you think you're gonna use the stock market to retire... you need to grasp the reality. It can be done. But you need to have your crap together to do it.

My advice? Better look at investing elsewhere, where its less complicated. Might seriously consider some rental property. It's pretty easy really. You figure out how much you need per month to live on, how much you can make per property, and buy that many. This is great, because as ya get older, you can sell them off for large lumps of cash, to use on heroine, cocaine, motorcycles, and sportscars, sky-diving, bull-riding, ultra-lite aircraft, and Class III license fees.

The next day... everthing from my waist up hurt like it never had before. This was far more effective than anything I'd ever tried... I was a little suprised... until I thought about what I'd really done.

Do the math for yourself. That's a lot of freakin' pushups... and if you're thinkin it's alot... like 100 or so... you better think again. You're off by a whole lot more than a little bit. As soon as I mentioned the pattern I'm sure Zod, Astro, and JAC had numbers popping in their heads... and I'm also sure, that after they reached the big number at the end, their pecks started hurtin' in sympathy.

Its a good method, because you're resting enough to get your will back, and it doesn't occur to you how much you're really doing. Plus, it gets even harder when you're working to maintain good form, while a two-year-old is climbing all over you.

Hey! Those adjustments you make to prevent, or break his falls are almost as hard as the pushups!

I'll need to come up with something for lower body work... flexibility is more important to me for the moment... as least lowerbody flexibility is... So I spend time stretching for now, until I figure what I'm gonna do.

I'd like to add some sit-ups and even a pull-up pyramid... but for now.. I'll stick to Pushup Death.

Friday, March 04, 2005

The Friday ATF PostATF... Alchohol, Tobacco, and Fireams... hehehehe.. It's occured to me that guns belong in these talks... and ol' LeatherWing has a quextion anyways...

"This is off topic, but since it's Nate's blog, not by much.A while back a female asked Nate advice on buying a handgun. My wife is interested in one, and I don't know too much about them myself. Could anybody point me back to that conversation?"

Now why would we point ya to it, when we can just have it all over again? Its the Bloggerblaster! We never tire of guns or booze!

I'm a big fan of wheel guns for chicks... They are more concealable, lighter, less bulky, and when you pull the trigger, the gun goes bang... Everytime. My standard recommendation is a titanium 7 shot Taurus .357 magnum.

Your little lady can practice with .38specials... and carry the big .357's when she needs 'em.

If she doesn't want a wheelgun, don't force it on her. There are plenty of options out there.

Chick Guns:

Glocks: Chicks love glocks. Get at least a .40 though. If you get a 9mm, don't blame me when you start havin' dreams about your wife not havin' enough gun.

Berretta: The 9000s is a great little carry gun, and there are all manner of Berretta shirts.. bags... stickers... even jewelry that she can accessorize with. Don't think for a second that this doesn't matter to a chick.

Taurus: The Milliniums are great little guns. Easy to carry, easy to shoot, and they're reliable. What esle do you want?

Khar: If you've got 500 bucks to drop... this is where to drop it. Best trigger you can get.

What say ya Boys?

Now... on to the booze...

It's Bookers tonight y'all. Piss on JAC. I'm tired o' waitin' on his sorry ass. Fact is I cracked it open last weekend... and even offered a nip to a pretty little blonde girl who came over to hang out with DrWho and I. Poor thing thought she liked C**** R****. You know what I mean. That damned Canadian Blended Abomination.

My blog's to nice a place to clutter up with that mess. II refuse to even type the name. ts Vulgar.

I used to frequent a little cigar shop in downtown Nashville. This snooty lookin' fella was in there lookin' for a "good cigar". The owner handed him a tab. and he turned his nose up. Said he didn't smoke 3 dollar cigars.

The owner says... "I'll tell ya want young fella... you smoke that one. If you don't like it, no charge. If ya do, you buy the box."

Deal said the snob.

Long story short... He left with a box of cigars, and another on order.

Thursday, March 03, 2005

The Short Violent Life of the CSS Arkansas
In the Winter of 1861-62 the folks in Memphis were busy building two new confederate rams, the Tennessee, and the Arkansas. In April of 62 the Arkansas was moved up the Yazoo River, after the Yankees raided Memphis and sank the Tennessee before she could escape.

Captain Isaac Brown recieved his orders to take command of the Arkansas, and see her construction completed later that year... but when arrived in Greenwood Mississippi, what he found was a mere hull. It had no armour. The engines were in pieces... and the guns had no carriages. The railroad iron that was meant to armour her, was lying in the mud at the bottom of the Yazoo.

In order to complete her construction he had her towed up to Yazoo City where army construction crews worked for 5 weeks.. to.. ahem.... Gitter Done. The work was nearly complete when falling river levels forced them to move the Arkansas yet again.

At that point she was ready to go, except for the one armourless curved spot that wrapped her stern and Pilothouse. They slapped a boiler plate on there for "appearences sake", and set off to kick some ass.

That was pretty cocky attitude for a Confederate Captain to have. Particularly one whose crew was made of 60 boys from Missouri who'd mostly never been on a ship before. Not to mention the fact that none of them had ever been around the big guns of the Arkansas. Then again... You put a big enough bow gun on a boat... and you end up with a confident captain... and the Arkansas had... well.. it wasn't so much a gun... as it was an instrument of mass maritime destruction. Less than 24 hours after setting off... they'd have a chance to put her to use.

The Tyler, a wooden gunship, the iron-clad Carondolet, and the Ram Queen of the West were the first three ships to take on the Arkansas. The Tyler... which frankly had no business being there. Her Captain showed guts though... he stayed out of the fight, but close enough to fire on the Arkansas we he got the chance. A reasonable man would've run like hell.

Captain Brown rightfully ignored the Tyler and consentrated on the Carondolet. The big bow gun blasted her steering mechanism to Hell and gone, and she was left stranded on a sandbar. When the Arkansas turned her attention to the Ram and the Tyler, both turned and ran. Brown could've returned and finished the helpless Carondolet... but instead he continued to chase the other two.

It was this chase that quickly led the Arkansas to Vicksburg... and Legend.

The Union had been laying seige to Vicksburg, and had assembled what was, at the time, the largest Naval Force in the history of the Western Hemisphere there. There were 40 ships. A forest of sails and smokestacks.

In one of the great "Holy Crap" of our history... Captain Brown simply looked at that big bow gun and decided to blast right through. Hell... there was only 40 of 'em. Suffice it to say this was exactly what the yankees did not expect.

In fact, by the time most of the yankee sailors even realized what was going on, the Arkansas was already blasting away on them. It was like Pearl Harbor... except it was just one boat attacking.

Thats not to say that the Arkansas didn't get punished. Witnesses from Vicksburg at first thought that a yankee powder boat had blownup. There were explosions everywhere... and black smoke to thick to see through. The Arkansas plowed through the force, firing on, and taking fire from every ship she passed.

The fury and sudden nature of her attack aided her greatly. Of all the yankee ships, only the ram, the General Bragg, had steam, and her cowardly captain did nothing. Later he claimed he was "Waiting for orders". I'm sure he was waiting for orders to... in his quarters under his bed.

In the boldest yankee move of the battle, the Lancaster... another ram made a grand move on the Arkansas, attempting to position itself between her and Vicksburg... but all she got for her bravery was a blast from the big bow gun that ruined her, and killed many of her crew. Colonel Scharf says in his history: "The Federal line was now forced, and the Arkansas emerged from the volcano of flame and smoke, from an hour's horizontal iron hail of every description, from 32 to 200 pounders, hurled by a fleet of about forty formidable war vessels--shattered, bleeding, triumphant! ... They were welcomed by the patriotic shouts of the army at Vicksburg, and the siege of that city was virtually raised."

That last bit is debatable. The New York Times placed Yankee dead at 42, with 70 wounded.

For the next week the Arkansas stayed in port at Vicksburg where she was repaired... all the while under fire from the Yankee fleet that was little more than annoyance.

Once the repairs were complete, Captain Brown decided to once again lay into the yankee fleet. By manuvering around under the guns of Vicksburg, he was able to harass the fleet to no end. They were forced to be continually under steam... which.... in this, the hottest part of the summer was bloody misery. Admiral Farragut, who was already hot enough about the success of the Arkansas' raid had had enough. He ordered her sunk before they all died of heat stroke.

In a last ditch effort, he called out the Essex, a formitable iron-clad, and the Queen of the West. Both were ordered to ram the Arkansas.

This lead to a running knife fight of a battle... so close that some of the sailors on the Arkansas actually came away with powder burns from the yankee guns. The Essex eventually took a pointblank broadside to her stern. She drifted away helpless. One on one the Queen of the West knew she was out-matched, but she fought on valiently, until she to fell to a broadside... and then a shot from the big bow gun.

Both yankee boats were towed away... and in view of this defeat... The Yankees had no choice but to end the blockade. The greatest Naval force in the Western Hemisphere had been scattered...

By 1 boat. A boat built in a swamp... with scrap metal... and crewed by a bunch of wet-behind-the-ears volunteers... of whom... only 20 now survived. Take away all the hyperbole, and even from the yankee point-of-view, it's still one of the greatest feats in naval history.

4 months later, the Arkansas was ordered to aid in the attack on Baton Rouge... without her dear captain. Brown was being treated medicly, but when he heard about the orders, against doctors orders he left the hospital. He caught a train to try to meet up with the Arkansas before she left, but arrived 12 hours to late.

Within site of the battle, the Arkansas' engines failed her. Rather than see the yankees get her, they landed her, and with St. Andrew's Bloody Cross flying proudly over her guns, they fired her.

Wednesday, March 02, 2005

- A light-haired chick is shopping in a pastry shop that's running a sweepstakes. She unwraps her pastry and it excitely announces, "It says I won an RV!" The clerk looks at her confused and says, "That can't be right... the contest is only for items in the store." "Look for yourself! It says I won an RV!", says the girl.

The clerk takes the wrapper... carefully reads it and says...

"Honey... it just says ya win a bagel."

That last one was brought to you by DrWho.

*** BONUS BAD JOKE ***

- What did the Zen master say to the hot dog vendor?

Make me one with everything.

*** BONUS BAD JOKE #2 ***

There were three Indian squaws. One slept on deer skin; another slept on elk skin; the third slept on the skin of a hippopotamus. All three became pregnant. Each of the first two had a baby boy. The one who slept on hippo skin had twin boys.

This proves that the squaw of the hippopotamus is equal to the sons of the squaws of the other two hides.

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

An Easy Sunday Ride: Part IIPart 1 can be found in the archives. 7/19/04Cruising along the twisty river roads... we made our way to Mount Storm. The on again off again duel with Curt was startin' to cool down. The scenery was to nice to worry with such things. We'd settled into our groove for the day. Curt and RJ out front, on the Aprilia and the 929 I learned to ride on, then me on my CBR 1000, and Brian behind me on his 900rr with that cute little blonde. Jeff was bringin' up the rear, hustlin' along on his big BMW.

The sun was shining through the thick rows of timber... there wasn't a cloud in the sky. The river was sparkling off to our right... not 30 feet away. This is really what I came for.

Like all things though... these moments are fleeting. I found myself weeving a little in the road... looking for openings that I had no business looking for. Curt and RJ are shifting around on their bikes too... looks like business is about to pick up...

and it did.

The 929's front wheel popped straight up, and the bike I lust for more than any other on the planet blasted off like it was shot from a gun.

Time to go.

I revved the big bike up to 8,000 and popped the clutch. See ya Brian! We slammed through the turns on highway 7... dealing on more than one occasion with... ahem... slower moving traffic. Now... this isn't easily accomplished. Riding a motorcycle well is just about as taxing as piloting a modern jet-fighter... and that's not me talking... that's the CDC's description.

Nelly. You've GOT to be shitting me. I'm trying to throw down with these boys... with some idiot rapping to the theme song of the Jeffersons. This is like God's own cruel joke. This went on for like 6 hours... well.. ok.. it was really only two songs in a row.. but believe me.. it seemed like forever... combined with the fact that I suddenly realized that if I didn't piss in the next 5 minutes the world would in fact end.... well... it wasn't good.

In an act only desperation can inspire... I ran down Curt and RJ and communicated my perdicament in the only way we biker boys can. That is to say.. I passed them... doin about 130... while franticly pointing at my crotch.

At the end of 7 we pulled off and took a piss break... By this point I was seeing the world with a distinct yellow hue.. but alas... that's the price ya pay sometimes. Oh for a sneaky leaker!

Before we headed out.. I disregarded the offending MP3 player in favor of my backup. I needed some angry whiteboy music to clense the old palate. We mounted up.. and started the brutal ascent to Mount Storm... along the way.. it turns out we'll cross the longest straight stretch of good road in West Virginia... and I a plan was beginin' to form in my mind...

I played the good little serf all along our ascent... the whole approach to the coming straight stretch. I wanted to lull Curt and RJ to sleep. These are sportbikes I figured... they live to turn and burn... but mine.. she's geared for top end. Suddenly things were about to look up for ol' Nate.

As the Go Point approached... my backup MP3 player suddenly blasted in my ear...

"I like your pants around your feet. and I like the dirt that's on your knees.I like the way ya still say please,while you're lookin' up at me.You're like my favorite damn disease."

I opened her up... and now it was a game of chicken. Four 250 cc cylinders pounded beneath me. At 140 the bike settled way down as the wind resistance pushs the front end hard. Curt and RJ wide open in front of me.. but I was in the powerband before them and was catching up quick.

At 150 the bike was smooth as silk and begging for more. The world was reduced to the road in front of me, and God hovered over the Horizon.

At 160 I was pushing 9,000 RPM's and the bike was noticably accelerating. I was in the opposite lane to RJ and I was running him down.

Thats when I realized...

Curt was simply leaving us. That Aprilia was pulling just as hard at 160 as it was at 140. It was like there was just no end to the power. RJ and I backed off... and at the reasonable speed of 130... we were looking at each other and shaking our heads as Curt hurled on towards oblivion.

Ah.. but the day was not yet half over. Mount Storm still lay ahead... and now.. my thoughts were lingering more and more on flirting with the cute blonde ridin' with Brian. Hehehehe... I could only hope he was the jealous type.